The Basement Tapes
by callmejharls
Summary: Where it all started


Chapter 1

"Dr. Quinzel?" A woman's voice called to her, breaking her trance. She had been looking down and counting the black and white checkered tiles nervously. She was also trying not to bite her bottom lip, because she didn't want to mess up her lipstick. She wanted her first impression on the warden to be a positive and well presented one.

She cleared her throat and answered the warden's secretary with a light, "Yes?"

The very slender and proper looking girl (not much older than Harleen herself) held the office door open. The window was marked "Dr. Helena Sharp."

"Miss Sharp will see you now." Said the secretary, still holding open the door, looking a little frazzled. Harleen knew that her interview was one of the last few to be conducted, and although the office exterior was thick, she could still overhear the faint shouting echoing from the room moments ago. Their silhouettes were matte grey against the drawn screen. Miss Sharp was unhappy with the selection of applicants she had sifted through so far. Harley overheard her threaten to call it a day and send the rest of the applicant's home until Monday (it being a Friday). But the secretary informed her there was only one interview left, and Miss Sharp relented. Harley tried to calm her nerves by taking a deep breath but her lungs caught somewhere between finishing the inhale and she found herself holding her breath. The door clicked open and the nervous secretary stepped out, her right arm holding the door open for Harley to enter.

Adjusting her skirt, so that it wouldn't ride too far up when she stood, Harley rose, and started towards the door. The tag in the back of her blouse poked her and she tried not to fidget under the itch. She planned on returning the shirt as soon as she could… she couldn't afford it, but she wanted to look like she could. Again, she hoped it would make a good first impression.

Harley nodded politely at the secretary and made a point in saying, "Thank you." Knowing the girl probably needed a kind word.

"Have a seat, miss Quinzel." Said Miss Sharp, a severe looking lady, who's forever grimacing face made her look like she was sucking on something sour. As Harleen took her seat she decided her goal, if she got the job, was to get miss Sharp to smile.

"How are you today, miss Sharp?" She asked, and then cursed herself inwardly. Don't speak unless spoken too, missy. She almost bit her lip. Sharp looked freakishly tall, especially from the low angle Harleen was out now, having taken her seat. Thick specks rested on the end of Sharps nose as she stood, peering at the paperwork that was Harleens file, no doubt. The woman didn't acknowledge her question. Instead she pursed her thin lips before saying, "Impressive background, miss Quinzel." Although it didn't sound like a compliment, Harley smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."

Mrs. Sharp sat down and straightened out the file by click click-ing it on the desk twice. The noise wasn't loud but it still made Harley flinch.

"However, it appears you have little to no experience in the field." The womans eyes finally met Harleys gaze, for the first time since she entered the room. Her eyes were a foggy grey that reminded one of dry ice. Harley gulped.

"Well, yes ma'am I have interned at several hospitals here in Gotham-"

"I'm not talking about internships. What paid practice have you had if any?" Irritation lined the tone of her voice.

"Since graduation I have had only one paying job in psychiatry… At the Brooklyn Methodist Hospital." She tried not to sound too dismal about her previous job, but it was difficult. That place was not her cup of tea.

"A Brooklyn kid, is it?" Sharp seemed taken aback.

Harley nodded, and worried that Sharp might judge her for being from there. The woman didn't seem upset at all though.

"Hmmm… well. I won't lie to you Miss Quinzel. I usually don't hire doctors as inexperienced as yourself, but we are in desperate need of fresh blood around here, and your scholarly records are more than satisfactory. "

Harley tried not to jump out of her seat and happy dance. Instead she smiled, and clasped her hands together in excitement. This was her dream job, the place where Gotham's most extreme and most difficult cases were.

"Honestly, I am simply worn out by all these interviews. I have a lot more pressing work to get done around here and I just need to hire someone." The woman lit a cigarette, and put her heeled feet up on the table as she leaned back in her chair. Harley was a little surprised by the sudden informality and glanced about the ceiling for smoke detectors.

"Don't worry, I took the batteries out." Said miss Sharp in a puff of exhaled smoke.

"Ohhh." Harley nodded in understanding.

"So? Can you start next Monday?" Sharp said, raising an eyebrow and dabbing out the cig on the little black ashtray that sat on the far corner of her desk. Harley hadn't noticed it before. She tried to compose herself enough to respond.

"Y-yes ma'am. Of course!" She tugged at her skirt to keep from lifting her fingers to her mouth to chew on her nails.

"I'll let you try your luck on a few of our softer cases the first week, and see how you manage. Call it a paid trial run?" The woman stood up, as if to signal Harley that her interview was quite over.

"Thank you, I promise I won't let ya down!" Harley stood too, her accent showing a bit in her excitement.

She hurried out of the smokey office, a smile on her ruby lips.

"Oh and miss Quinzel?" Sharp was holding the door open, calling her to turn back.

"Yes?" Harley did a one-eighty.

"The tag on your skirt is still attached." Sharp almost laughed as Harley stared down at it, her cheeks burning.

"Thank you!" And she lit out of the building, with a nagging suspicion. As she got into her car she tried not to overthink. Why had she hired me so suddenly on the spot? What had I done right?

On the drive home Harley surfed through radio stations restlessly, and finally let Amy Whinehouse drawl through the stereo.

I cheated myself,

Like I knew I would,

I told you I was trouble,

You know that I'm no good…

Harley hummed to the music, and leaned her head against the cold of the window. Rain washed against the glass on the other side. The traffic was thick and incredibly slow. She wondered just how long the commute would take today. The pitter-patter of the rain on her cars roof was dulled suddenly by the urgent vibration of her phone against the consol. The screen lit with the words "Incoming call from: Stephanie" Harley thought about pressing the decline button. She didn't really feel like gushing about the interview even though it had ended with her getting the job… something still didn't feel right. But, her roommate knew the interview would be over by now and Harley didn't want Steph to know she was ignoring her. She hit the 'answer' button.

"Hey Steph." Sighed Harley, putting the call on speaker. The rain was letting up.

"So? Did it go as bad as you thought?" Steph sounded far away from the phone, and there were clicks and pops as if bottles or palettes were being closed and opened. Harley could almost see her doing her makeup in their small shared bathroom.

"Not as bad as I anticipated… I got the job… but-" She was cut off.

"YAAAAY! See guuurl I toldja! We gotta celebrate!" Steph had moved closer to the phone and her excited screams were distorted as they passed through the phones limited speakers.

"Yeah, maybe…" Harley looked out the window as traffic allowed another inch. "I don't really want to go drinking tonight. Maybe we could have a girls night in for once?" She tried.

"Oh no you don't. I told Tony you'd come this time. You've already bailed on him twice."

Harley rolled her eyes and tried not to groan. Steph always set her up with the same kind of guys. "Okay fine."

"Atta girl! Going out will be good for ya, trust me. When will you be home?"

"At this rate? Who knows." She flipped off someone about to cut her off.

"Okay, see you soon Har."

There was a silent pause as the call ended and the radio resumed.

The night out on the town was almost like any other. Steph and Harley met up with some friends at a club, and Tony was the typical type Steph always picked for her. He was sturdily built and had dark black hair. He was handsome, but the way he smiled bothered Harley. He never showed his teeth when he smiled, his lips just spread across his face in an undecided smirk. She had just decided it was a small flaw, as she started to dance with him intentionally. But by the middle of the song the DJs mic screeched definingly and the music was cut. People winced and held their ears. Others protested and complained in the direction of the DJ… before they realized that the DJ was being held at gunpoint. The wielder of the weapon was dressed in dark clothes, a hood shadowing his facial features. Unhearable words passed between the two, and the DJ carefully handed the mic to the hooded man.

"Yeah, okay… Is this thing on?" He chuckled, alone. The room of people were too scared to laugh with him. Harley turned to ask Tony what they should do, but he was gone.

"Fuck." She whispered to herself, silently searching the crowd for Stephanie.

"Wow tough crowd. Okay here's the plan. Everyone put your hands up while my boys come through and collect your donations." The DJ beside the hooded man was actually crying by now.

Hooded men appeared from every corner of the room, slowly moving through the crowd, patting down men with pockets and groping the women they were dancing with. One of the men near Harley took an olive out of a lady's martini and chewed it loudly.

"This doesn't have to end badly. Don't resist and ruin the night for everyone." Said the hooded man.

The man with the olive was behind Harley now, where Tony had stood before. His big hands travelled down her waist and gripped her ass hard. Out of reflex, Harley's leg kicked up behind her, her high heeled foot successfully making contact with his junk.

"OOOoooff!" The huge man stumbled and his hand clutched between his legs. People started to talk, and shuffle. This unnerved the gunman, and he fired a shot through the ceiling. The crowd, again, froze. People who hadn't seen the gunman raise the gun to the air looked for the bullets victim. But no one except olive man had fallen.

"Everyone freeze! Keep your hands up!" The voice in the microphone was less self assured now, and Harley's years of schooling in how to read people told her that the leader of this heist was inexperienced and had no real intention of shooting anyone in the club. This was just another Gotham soft crime.

Someone grabbed her hand and she almost turned and swung, but she realized it was Stephanie. The clammy grip on her hand implied Steph was terrified and was obviously falling for the "I'll shoot everyone in here" vibe.

"Harley" She whispered, "What are we gonna do?" Panic was plain in her voice. Harley giggled at her. "C'mon babe, that gun has maybe four bullets in it. These thugs don't know what they're doing." She winked at olive man, who was still on the floor recovering, his hood falling off his head, revealing his facial features.

"Tony?!" Harley shreaked.

Stephanie gasped and clutched Harley's arm.

"That's a nice way to treat a lady on your first date!" She leaned over him like an angry parent, and wagged her finger.

"Shut up bitch! I'll shoot!" The speakers nervously blared, over the muffled laughter that was scattered around the room.

Harley turned toward the crowd and said "Y'know what folks? Blind dates are never a good idea. Exhibit A." She then posed, gesturing towards the disgruntled man on the floor with her arms out, as if she were a TV game show hostess announcing the winning prize of $10,000. The laughter was more audible now, even the crying DJ joined in. Harley noticed the glow of some cell phones recording or photographing the incident.

Hmm… I wonder if this caffuffle will make the local news. She decided to play it up. She faced the gunman, who was glaring at her out from under his hood. He looked her in the eyes, raising his weapon to the ceiling again and firing.

Harley took a few steps closer, slowly. The crowd parted for her, and the gunmans raised arm trembled slightly.

"Lemme guess…" Her eyebrows raised, and she crossed her arms, "You'll shoot." Her tone was full of mockery and she looked up, meeting his gaze as she spoke.

"You bet I will, bitch." His shaking arm lowered and he leveled the barrel of the gun to her forehead. Everyone hit the floor in reaction to the gun waving. There was a moment of silenced as the two stared at each other. Then she broke it:

"Do you always shoot your load so early?"

There was a hushed "ooooooh" that travelled around the room, and a few women (including her friend Stephanie) giggled.

"W-what?" Asked the gunman, incredulous.

"I'm just wondering why you used your "I'll shoot" card so early in the game… When you obviously don't have any intentions of shooting anything more than a ceiling rafter."

Harley knew she had him in a corner. He had the opportunity of shooting her, his wounded pride giving him enough reason to want to. She could almost hear him debating his choices. Harley hoped someone had alerted the police, knowing she could only stall for so long.

"You could shoot me. But what kind of man would that make you?" His sweaty brow furrowed. She studied his face so she would be able to describe it to the police later. She continued. "Would a stand up guy shoot an unarmed woman?" The gun was visibly shaking in his hand and she prayed he wouldn't accidentally squeeze the trigger.

"Let's think about this baby… Right now, you're looking at a robbery sentence. Easy time. Maybe community service." She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to speak calmly, keep him at ease. "But if you pull that trigger right now, you'd be looking at a murder sentence… electric chair?"

Sirens howled in the distance. Almost there.

"Charlie, what are you doing? Pop one in the cunt, let's get out of here!" One of the thugs hollered at the gunman. Groups of people blocked the exits, trapping the the series of black hoods trying to flee, and tossing nothing but punches. No one else was armed? Amatures.

"Charlie?" Harley's voice changed completely. It was soft. Her expression must have changed too, because his brow un-scrunched.

"Charlie, you're not older than what?... twenty?" His eyes widened. "You've made it through life in this godforsaken city this long without resulting to violence… Or at least getting caught in the act." He lowered the gun slowly. "Times are tough, believe me I've been there. I've done many things I'm ashamed of in order to stay afloat." His eye's dropped to the stage floor, breaking their gaze. The sirens got louder, and there were fights breaking out at the exits. "Maybe you got yourself in some trouble… Maybe you've got a family to provide for…" His shoulders shook.

Don't cry little brother.

"I can tell them you were forced into this. He looked disparagingly at the flashing lights rotating their colors outside the club. "I have friends… Should I put in a good word for you?" She reached for his hand and he didn't protest, just blubbered like a little boy. "Come on baby." She led him through the brawl of the club and she slowly opened the right side of the double door entrance. "Just do what they say." She whispered to him from the side. He nodded at her, the lights from the cars illuminating his face fully for the first time. He was younger than she had estimated. Probably somewhere in his teens. He raised his hands and was arrested on the spot.

A shaken Steph and a triumphant Harley answered the GCPD's questions and returned home on the 2am train.


End file.
